This is very light entertainment to be savoured on an airplane or some such locale where concentration is more difficult, and you don’t mind using up a few hours that you might have spent reading more challenging tomes. It’s like a good puff pastry: pleasant on the palate but not something that is going to stay with you past the meal. Atkinson writes well (I liked her Case Histories), she has an eye for place and for a gamut of characters, not all of which are stock as some do have internal dialogues and lives to make them marginally more interesting. This is a novel long on plot and activity; it is a complex plot involving a number of unconnected persons. This may put some off in the beginning, keeping track of who is whom, but it is worth the perseverance (with the caveats mentioned in the opening sentence) to see how Atkinson brings everyone together, in a scene reminiscent of Hercule Poirot bringing all the suspects together for a final accounting and unmasking of the murderer. And still Atkinson has an extra little surprise to end the novel.

Jackson Brodie with Julia (from Case Histories) is witness to an incident where a mystery novelist saves the driver from an enraged motorist. He finds the body of a drowned Russian girl, which is washed away. He is attacked by the driver. Events seem unrelated but are tied up at the finale. Humor, good characters. Good!! ( )

rec'd by Erin, Mindy's friend in NYC

The second of Atkinson’s murder mysteries, this novel includes some of the same characters but is set two years after the first. Fortunately, it doesn’t rely upon the first but stands independently as a novel in its own right; relevant incidents are casually thrown into the narrative – ‘He had once watched his own house explode.’ That’s fortunate for me, at least, as I haven’t read ‘Case Histories’, which is the highly regarded predecessor of this novel. In fact, because events in the two novels are so disparate (according to my research, anyway,) I imagine you could quite comfortably read the first after reading the second – if you wanted to…

I like reading crime fiction. I’m stating this because there sometimes seems to be a certain nose-turning-up attitude towards crime fiction in some corners, and a tendency towards justifying or excusing it. Sometimes crime seems to be a subclass of the novel rather than a genre of it. In this instance, Atkinson’s style is described as a ‘good literary novel’ on the front cover, almost as if she or her publishers are trying to distance her precious writing from the common taint of crime writing. In fact, the issue of the variable quality of literature is explored in the novel itself: Martin, one of the main characters, is depressingly aware of the trite, relaxing-Sunday-evening nature of his published works, which focus around a preppy, asexual sleuth called Nina. His publisher gleefully revels in the money bought in by the expanding series while Martin gloomily reflects on the poor writing he has inflicted on mankind. (In fact, Martin’s persistent gloom is slightly irritating, since he appears to be earning a jolly good living from his books.) All of this is a lengthy way of saying that, while there is certainly a variable quality in all fields of fiction and non-fiction, I would actually tend to be more wary of a novel claiming to be ‘literary’ than a ‘crime’ novel. I mean, what does that even signify? It usually seems to mean ‘lengthy, wordy and complex’. I’ll come back to this point shortly.

So what is the story? It quickly shoots off in various directions, but the instigating incident is a moment of road rage which is halted by a quiet man’s unthinking action. The villain of the piece then apparently tries to track down all the witnesses to this event, for no perceivable reason, while an ex Private Investigator worries about a disappearing body, a dissolving relationship and the difficulties inherent in being rich (ooh, it’s a tough life). A police officer struggles to control her son and a rich woman watches stolidly as her life collapses around her – although she takes the news of her husband’s heart attack while riding a prostitute very calmly. Russian girls multiply and disappear. Gradually, the links between the characters solidify and everything is tied up in the final few chapters, leaving room for one final twist at the end.

My thoughts

So in what way is this ‘jolly murder mystery’ literary? Well, first it takes 70 pages to develop events which actually span a mere three minutes (the road rage incident). This is because each character’s perspective of the events is described and deliberated upon in turn. Of course, their response does not take place in a vacuum, so there are also many pages of back-story and character history which is presumably intended to be of use later on. The scope of the novel is a wide one, then, in that it deals with a mere four days through the eyes of a wide range of characters. However, I would disagree with the blurb which enthusiastically lays claim to a ‘Dickensian cast’; surely to be classified as Dickensian the novel should contain intriguing characters, not simply a fair number of them? Martin, the novelist, is dull, dull, dull. The villain of the piece is simply a thug, and barely portrayed as a realistic human being. He is simply a force for evil. The ex PI meanwhile is consistently heroic, if somewhat moody, although his girlfriend is a bit of a cow. All the characters lead unsatisfactory, stressful lives, apart from a happy hooker – who turns out to be something rather more. At least in Dickens’ writing one finds a sense of hope; the characters here seem like they’d quite happily be euthanized. So, to return to my earlier definition, this ‘literary’ novel is lengthy, wordy, and complex in action if not in meaning.

The crime element takes a while to kick in, despite the opening road rage incident, and then the detective work takes a back seat to ‘character development’. We learn how the rich wife was saddened by the death of some kittens when she was much younger, which neatly prepares us for the conclusion to her story. For me, the pace was somewhat too slow due to the necessity of all the background information. I’m sure I’ve said this before somewhere, but while I appreciate realistic, rounded characters, I don’t want to know their entire life history or every waking thought. I expect to be able to understand and navigate the story without having to mentally sustain a whole set of five dimensional characters. Perhaps ‘literary’ really means ‘make an effort’. Personally, I would have preferred a faster paced novel that focused more on the detective work.

There are some amusing moments, such as when the writer contemplates how his death might affect his sales on Amazon: ‘it could go either way, he supposed.’ On the whole, though, the mood is persistently gloomy. When it is suggested that his characters are ‘a bit thin’, Martin reflects that his whole life has been like that. There is little sense of satisfaction from relationships, work or even everyday feelings of wellbeing. To me, this felt a little sad and unrealistic. Surely somebody, other than the confident dominatrix, had to be enjoying at least part of their life? A moody central detective is conventional, but a whole set of grouchy and often irritating characters surely risks alienating the reader? I’m not sure that I ever really cared about any of them, despite following every move in their thought processes.

The one real strength for me was the twist at the end of the book. It fit neatly with everything that had gone before while still giving the reader that ‘oh!’ sensation as you happily slot the last few puzzling pieces into place. However, for me, this wouldn’t be enough of a redeeming feature to recommend reading the entire book.

Conclusion

The chapters are lengthy and wordy. The action appears to happen slowly due to the concentration on the character’s thought processes. Conversations take pages to conclude, not because they’re so detailed but because the actual speech is so spread out. If you enjoy getting to know a set of characters incredibly well and living the minutes of their life with them, then this may well be the book for you. Personally, I think I’ll stick to Carl Hiaasen, who really does create quite jolly murder mysteries. ( )

This is not a book you can read casually. This is a book that requires a bit of concentration because of the interlocking stories. However, it is these very interlocking stories which capture your attention. It is the complexities in the different relationships between couples, families and then strangers that keep you engaged throughout the book.

This reads like a superbly directed fast-moving movie, you see the scenes in your mind, you feel the thrill of the chase, the twists in the plots and you feel the confusion in Martin, an author of cosy detective stories, as he is unwittingly dragged into a web of intrigue and murder.

Police detectives, ex-policemen, a suspicious agency of cleaners, a self-centered actress, an intrepid writer, a comedian wearing an unfortunate accessory, henchmen,the Russian mob and a couple of dead bodies are all thrown into the swirling cauldron. It had all the potential for a murky mess, but instead this is a very well constructed and captivating read. ( )